and the dragon roared
by Areku
Summary: Details of the day Folken left to kill the dragon and never returned.


AN I apologize if this has been done before. Please, please, please forgive me. I don't mean to copy anyone else's idea, I just haven't read around much.

This was written in honor of Folken's birthday- Feb 17.

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne or Folken (sob). I wish (as every other fangirl does) that I did, but I don't.

and the dragon roared

by Areku

When I woke up, the room was filled with a bluish haze, the signal that dawn was near. The night before I was very anxious about waking up early, but as I lay contemplating the intricacies of the ceiling, I couldn't remember why.

I pushed back the covers and was greeted by the cool morning air. The fire must have gone out some time in the night- as it often did. This irritated me, mostly because of the discomfort a cold room brought. We were an advanced nation for our time. So why shouldn't someone invent a fire that never went out till it was told to?

My feet met the cool stones, and I shivered. As I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing my eyes to get them to open, I struggled with the temptation of climbing back under the covers. After all, another ten minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt.

But someone had told me something that wouldn't let me climb back in-

"A king rises before the dawn to prepare for the struggles of the day."

The words pricked open a healing wound. My father the king of Fanelia, who had told me that, had passed away just a few weeks ago. Mother cried by his bed-side, while my baby brother Van and I looked on and wished we could comfort her somehow. She doesn't cry anymore, just watches us all with her sad eyes. She's being strong now to support us all. I'll have to be strong now to support her.

Yes, that's it, that's what I'm doing today. Today, then I take the throne.

My toes curl and uncurl on the stone, trying to keep warm, but failing miserably.

By Fanelian custom in order to become king the prince had to kill a dragon and take his energist, his heart, and present it before the nation as proof. Many never returned, whether they were killed by the dragon, or were too ashamed to show their cowardice in failure to the nation, I do not know.

If the prince died while trying to kill the dragon and his corpse was found, it was ushered into the capitol with honor, and buried in the family graveyard. If the body was never found, then it was assumed that he had run away. Become a coward in the face of the trial. His name was blacklisted.

If nothing else, I hate a coward. Especially one who abandoned his country because of the coronation process.

Not that the dragon is an easy thing. Only a true man can pass the test to become king.

The story book image of the knight and dragon came to mind. The knight always killed the dragon, saved the princess and lived happily ever after. Fortunately I didn't have to think about the princess part. Mother would take care of that in few years. I just had to worry about the dragon- that was more than enough to worry about.

The room was much brighter now then when I first woke up. If I didn't get up soon the day would be lost. I would put the task at hand off, and it would never be done. Then I would follow *them*.

My feet firmly planted on the floor, I stood up.

Yesterday I had painstakingly oiled every leather strap and polished the iron plating of the armor I would wear today, and it was laid out on the chair where I had left it. The armor consists of an iron breastplate, and iron covering for the arms. The iron was set over leather, for increased flexibility. Finaly I got to wear the armor of the knights into battle, it was a great honor.

With the last leather strap fastened, I was ready to go. Besides the armor my attire now consisted of a wool shirt that went underneath the breastplate, and fell down below my hips, thick close fitting pants, and knee-high boots, they were also overlaid with iron plating. Even though it was nearly summer such apparel was necessary. Even with it a direct blow from the dragon's claws or tail would be deadly.

On my way out of the room I stopped by the beaurro and mirror. At the time I moved into the room, I felt that father was trying to make a statement about me being too feminine, or some such nonsense. It wounded my pride to have such an girlish vain article in my room, **me** the CROWN PRINCE. But that score was soon forgotten and now I wonder if this was the room meant for the daughter my parents never had.

Now I look into the mirror's glass and a boy with a pale narrow face looks back at me. He looks no different than any other boy my age, except for the blue hair and red eyes, maybe. This is the boy who would be king.

I move on out of the room, through the silent hallways down a back staircase and there find a necessary stop, the kitchen.

My stomach was in such a knot, that I doubted it's ability to sustain food for any length of time in this state. I was more nervous then I like to admit. I took some bred read and a piece of fruit. I knew that if I didn't force down something now then I'd be in trouble latter.

I left the palace through the servants door in the kitchen. While everyone **did** know that I would leave to slay the dragon, I preferred to not see anyone before I left.

I passed the stable and went on to the place gates. I would walk instead of ride. In my current state of nerves I wasn't sure if I could handle a horse. Walking would give me time to think about what I had to do. Besides, you couldn't take a horse into the densely wooded forest.

The city was mostly quiet. None of the stores were open, the shutters on every window was closed, not even the dogs were awake. The only ones stirring at this hour would be the farmers, outside the city limits, doing their morning chores, and the watchman at the city gates. Then around six o' clock or so the city population would begin to run franticly about the town buying supplies from the market for breakfast. Most of the noblemen wouldn't rise till late morning, or even noon. Lazy aristocrats; to rule a people, one must understand their daily life, including what it is to rise early.

As I approached the main gates the watchman hailed me, and I answered giving him my name and purpose outside the city. He knew me at once, and opened the gates.

Once I was outside the city I was greeted by the sun. It was hanging over the horizon and was glaring in my eyes. I raised my hand to keep from being blinded, and continued down the main road away from my home.

As I walked, I mentally went over all the things Vargas taught me about dragon slaying and swordplay in general. From how to hold the sword, to the stances when attacking and defending, and the complex combo that would land my sword between the dragon's ribs.

I would be seeing the forest soon, I hoped. This was a task I wanted to get done, so I could go back home. The forest at night was not a pleasant place.

The main road continued away from the city between the cliffs for a great length. Several times I passed a peasant on their way to the city market. They would bow, and I would nod my head in recognition.

Then, finally, I reached the forest

The morning sunlight filtered through the tree branches and lighted patches of the forest floor. For a long time all I could hear was the crunch of my boots on the twigs and bramble that littered the forest floor.

The day was getting on before I finally heard _it_. The sound I knew I would have to hear.

The voice of a dragon.

A terrifying roar that filled the woods and bounced back off the trees.

When the blast ended I found that my knees were shaking so badly I had to lean against a tree for support. Yes, I was afraid to face the dragon. All the power in it's limbs and jaws terrified me. Yes I doubted my strength against it. Anyone would.

My legs refused to carry me away from the safety of the tree, to what was very likely to be my death. I hung my head and looked down at the forest floor. There I saw my boots, sodden with dew. There were leaves from past years in various states of decay scattered about.

"You'll follow me someday Folken. Be strong."

Yes Father.

I stood up and kept walking. Aiming as best I could to were I thought the roar originated. Again, it was silent but for my footsteps.

A short time latter I was confronted with quite a different sound. Some distance away I could hear the snapping and crunching of what I thought were twigs, but soon realized, could be very well be bones being cracked by a powerful jaw.

The sound could be carried from somewhere quite far, due to echoes, or so I could only hope.

There was less light here. The trees were taller and closer together. Walking was more difficult. I constantly had to brake through bushes and bramble, to continue in the course I hoped would lead me to my destination. Then I'd come out covered in twigs, thorns, and briers.

Fear and anger draw the dragons to you. Now I know that was my weakness. Like all other animal, a dragon can sense your emotions.

He roared again, and I jumped, involuntarily. I was practically on top of him. My eyes darted up, the sound was so close. My right hand rested on the hilt of my sword.

I guess I was afraid, but you would be too.

I crashed through some thick bramble and then froze.

The dragon stared at me. Blood dribbled from it's chin, it had been feeding. A dragon that has been interrupted while feeding makes for a very dangerous creature.

I looked into it's face, into it's eyes, and prayed that it didn't sense the fear that was knotted in the pit of my stomach.

I drew my sword and tried to remember what Vargas taught me.

The dragon roared again. I trembled inside although I think I stood firm.

And then it was over.

AN I believe you know what happens next. ;)

Could you tell me if it seemed like Folken or not? This is the first time I've tried writing him, so I'm not really sure. Sorry if this seems kinda disjointed, it still seems incomplete to me…but then most pieces do…

Please, please tell me what you think via review or email to: Areku_kun@yahoo.com


End file.
